


And a Little Leather

by cathalin



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Gloves, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-28
Updated: 2009-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathalin/pseuds/cathalin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris has a thing about Adam's fingerless leather gloves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And a Little Leather

It's the fifth time in twenty minutes that Adam catches Kris looking at his hands. Adam schools his expression, trying to keep it neutral; he wants to smile. He feels guilty, kind of. Except not really, because Kris has been upping the ante on the teasing so much recently, it seems only fair.

Adam doesn't think it has anything to do with _him_ , the way Kris's eyes catch and fixate on his gloves; he's pretty sure it's something to do with the way his fingers extend, naked, out of the tight-fitting black leather.

Kris has been full of surprises since the first day they met, and Adam figured out a while ago that Kris wasn't totally vanilla. Still, it's a little...a little intimate, knowing something about Kris that he didn't necessarily want to know.

Adam can't completely figure it out. Kris just laughs at Adam's leather pants, so it's not leather in and of itself. He does look at Adam's rings and fingernails sometimes, but not with the same intensity as _this_.

Adam ducks his head to hide a smile, because Kris is staring again, open-mouthed. Adam extends his hands experimentally, wiggles his fingers slowly like he's stretching.

"Kris!"

Adam looks around. There's a stagehand staring at them, looking irritated. A lot of other people seem to be waiting, and Adam realizes that he and Kris have been kind of in their own world.

Kris jumps guiltily, flushes a little, darts a quick glance at Adam.

Adam smirks at him and Kris's cheeks flare redder. Kris rolls his eyes, though, and smiles sheepishly, so they're good.

They don't talk about it.

Adam experiments, trying different types of hand accessories. Regular gloves will catch Kris's eye for a while, but not hold it. The cock ring hand-wrap thing made Kris laugh -- "Only you, Adam. Only you." -- but his eyes do linger on the part around Adam's wrist, and when Adam plays with it, acting like he's adjusting it, Kris's breathing speeds up a little.

Onstage, Kris gets more daring, to the point where he's mimicking blow jobs, face turned away from the camera. Normally Adam can completely separate their joking around from reality, but when Kris actually goes to his knees, he has to work a little harder. Okay, a lot harder.

When Adam spots the accessories store in Minneapolis, he briefly debates, then decides, fuck it, the guy deserves it. He drags Kris in and heads straight for the gloves.

"I don't think--" Kris starts, darting glances towards the door.

"Just a few minutes," Adam says, slipping some yellow fingerless gloves on. "It's fun!"

Kris makes a little sound. Kris's eyes are fixed on Adam's hands. His chest is rising and falling quicker than normal.

"So it's something about the fingerless," Adam says quietly.

Kris startles and his eyes fly open wide. "I--" He presses his lips together like he's pissed and turns to leave.

Adam grabs him by the wrist. "No, Kris, sorry, that wasn't what I--"

"You've been messing with me for weeks." Kris's voice is tight.

"No, I--"

Kris raises an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, okay, yeah I have. It's just interesting, okay?"

"Interesting!" Kris shakes his head. "It's not like you to laugh at people."

The hurt in Kris's voice makes Adam's chest tight. What _had_ he been doing? "I don't--I don't know what I was doing," he admits. "I wasn't making fun of you, I swear. Are you kidding? Jesus, I get whips on stage!"

"Then what is it." Kris's voice is flat.

Now it's Adam's turn to blush and turn away, because he's just realized what it is, and it's embarrassing as shit, after all this time, that he's maybe actually crushing on Kris. He's a little angry at Kris for messing with him, too, even though his rational self knows he's brought a lot of it on himself. _Jesus_.

"Oh," Kris says. " _Oh_."

"I'm so embarrassed," Adam says, starting to strip off the gloves. "You keep talking about it, though, all the Kradam stuff, and playing to it, and--"

"Oh, shit," Kris says, grabbing Adam's arm. "I thought that was okay. I thought it was a way to make it all okay, I didn't mean--"

"I know that!" Adam's voice comes out angrier than he meant it to, and Kris's eyebrows rise.

"Adam, listen to me." Kris's voice is very serious now. "I'm sorry, man."

Adam takes a breath, blows it out. "It's okay. I'm sorry about the glove thing."

Kris darts a glance to Adam's hands. "Now _that's_ embarrassing."

"No. Everyone's hot-wired a little different. Different strokes and all that. You've got a thing for these." Adam waves the gloves around. "That's kind of awesome, actually. I hope Katy knows."

Kris bites his lip and looks away. "Don't stop wearing them." Kris is looking at his feet now, but Adam can tell he means it.

"That wouldn't be being a very good friend, now would it, Kristopher?"

Kris looks at him and smiles a real smile, finally. "I want you to wear your stupid sexy weird gloves, okay?"

Adam grins at him. He feels better than he has in a long time. "Okay, if you're sure. Don't stop teasing me in public, then."

Kris looks skeptical.

"I mean it." Adam looks him in the eye. He does mean it, too. "It's cool. It _is_ funny, seriously."

Kris nods slowly.

"I feel like we should shakes hands or something," Adam jokes.

"Only if you're not wearing those gloves," Kris says, and Adam laughs.

It's liberating having talked about it. Adam's still careful in public, because the last thing either of them need is people deciding he's preying on Kris -- being gay kind of sucks for that. Kris teases Adam in all the ways he used to, plus more; the fans are delighted when Kris stays on his knees for an entire thirty seconds during Don't Stop Believing, then licks his lips a few times for good measure.

Three concerts before the last, Adam pulls on new gloves for his set. He can feel Kris's eyes on him, darts a quick glance to the dressing room mirror to confirm it.

Adam had these gloves made. They're black leather, supple and shinier than his last ones, with strips of blue interwoven in the lacing. Where his fingers extend beyond the leather, and at the wrist, there's a criss-cross of lacing, showing pale skin framed by blue-black. Instead of ending at the base of his palms, the lacings go up his wrists, forming an intricate pattern of cross-hatched leather straps.

Kris stares, open-mouthed and not even trying to hide it, as Adam puts them on. "Hey," he says softly in Kris's direction. "I need a little help tying these. Do you think...?"

Kris swallows and nods, comes over to where Adam's sitting. He ties the laces with hands that are trembling slightly.

Adam can't help but stare at Kris's mouth, hanging open and slack. He's horrified to find his hand reaching for Kris's face, brushing lightly on his cheek. Damn it, it's getting to him, thinking about how close they are to their final concert, and not being together all the time any more.

Kris's eyes close and he leans into Adam's palm. Adam's breath catches in his throat. He thinks he knows what Kris wants to do: he wants to open his mouth, mouth the leather, lick the place where Adam's fingers and the gloves meet.

No. Kris can't want that. And what the hell was Adam thinking, buying these and dangling them in front of Kris like this?

Adam pulls his hand back and takes a breath. Kris opens his eyes and meets Adam's. There's something new there, something Adam's only seen hints of. Kris whispers, voice raspy, "Katy wants us to. One time. If we can promise her neither of us or Drake will be hurt."

"What!" Adam feels like he can't breathe.

Kris stands up. "You heard me."

"You can't just _say_ things like that!"

Kris presses his lips together. "I wasn't sure whether I was going to say anything. Forget it, man. I didn't think you'd want to." He walks away. "Get ready. We've got a show to do."

"You can't--" But apparently Kris can, because Adam's left speechless and alone in the dressing room. Kris can't have--There's no way that...

Adam takes a few minutes to breathe. His heart is beating fast. This suddenly got serious, really fucking fast. Kris has to be joking, fucking with him, right? He knows Kris isn't, though. There'd been that look in his eyes...

Adam has to make a decision, he knows that. One way or another, this crap has to end; it's getting dangerous. He flips open his phone and calls Drake. It takes a while to get it out and his voice is a little shaky, but when he does, Drake laughs. "Baby, you get a chance at that, you have to take it. But you have to tell me all about it after."

"I just--"

"I know. Look, anyone with a brain knows you two are crazy about each other. But it's just not going to happen, the two of you, so if you can get this, one time, I'm happy for you. I mean, I'll probably get insecure and needy for a while, but I'm sure you can make it up to me..."

"You're amazing," Adam sighs. "I don't know, though. My friendship with him is really important. I think this could fuck it up."

"Yeah. But I don't think he'd suggest it if he hadn't thought that through. I mean, he's Kris, you know?"

Adam smiles. Drake is something else. "Love you."

"Back at you. Go get yourself some of that. Seriously. Maybe it'll make up for when I, you know, in Louisiana, that time?"

"Hey, no biggie, we were just fuck buddies then, anyway. But okay, I'll think about it. And thank you, sweetie. I owe you."

"Mmmhmm. I'll keep that in mind next time one of those Hollywood studs corners me at some party."

Usually Adam changes to his denim costume for the group numbers at the end of the concert, but tonight he stays in black leather and the gloves. Kris takes one look at him and turns away, obviously trying hard to not stare at Adam during the ending of Hey, Jude.

Then they're below the stage, getting ready to get on the lift. There aren't any people around. Kris doesn't look at Adam.

"You're not even going to look at me?" Adam's surprised at how needy his voice sounds.

"Afraid of what will happen," Kris says softly.

That's when Adam realizes that my god, this might really be going to happen. "Oh." He looks down at his hands, then at Kris's back. Kris is standing a few feet away from him, turned away. Adam takes two steps forward and raises his hand to the back of Kris's neck, right where the short hairs from his latest haircut make little bristles, and brushes it with the back of his gloved hand.

Kris sighs and leans back.

Adam flips his hand and brings his palm slowly around Kris's head to his cheek. Kris leans into it, turning his head a little, mouth almost touching the glove.

"Oh, god," Adam breathes, instantly hard. He takes another step forward so he's flush against Kris's back.

"Wait, it's not fair. How about for you, is there something--?"

Adam thinks he knows what Kris is trying to ask. "Your mouth," he says into Kris's ear. "If I were to let myself think about anything like that, which I don't, your mouth."

"Let yourself," Kris opens his lips and breathes onto the glove. Adam feels moist warmth through the leather. "And I'll let myself think about..."

"About?" Adam decides, _fuck it_ and presses himself hard into the slope of Kris's back where it meets his ass.

"Hands," Kris gasps, then fucking _licks_ at the space where Adam's fingers protrude from the gloves.

Adam groans. "Fingers, I could. Kris, have you ever--"

"Want everything." Kris sounds drunk. He opens his mouth and licks, tongue strong and steady, on Adam's fingers.

Adam's knees feel weak. "Oh, _fuck_."

"Thirty seconds!" a tech stage-whispers into their earpieces.

"Shit." Kris sounds choked.

"Yeah, shit," Adam echoes, stepping back and adjusting himself as best he can.

Kris breathes hard for a moment, then turns towards Adam. Thank fuck, there's a grin threatening to pull up the corners of his mouth. He's trying to pull his shirt down over his pants, but it's not long enough.

"Looks like you've got a little problem." Adam stoops and steps onto the lift.

"Yeah, well, you've got a big one," Kris deadpans as he steps in beside him.

"Kristopher Allen!"

Adam's still laughing when they get on stage, but they manage to pull off their parts just fine. This time, during the section of Don't Stop Believing when they always goof around, Adam goes down to two knees for a full minute and gestures with the hand he's not holding the mic in. He pulls out all the stops; does what he thinks of as Ring of Fire Hands, makes the beckoning hand at Kris, manages a sort of jerking off motion.

Kris's eyes are riveted on Adam's gloved hand, but both of them sing flawlessly.

Kris escapes offstage before Adam, so he doesn't see him until the Meet & Greet. Adam slips off one glove so he can shake hands and sign things, but keeps the other on. By unspoken agreement, they stay as far from each other as they can.

Thankfully, the venue's not allowing them to meet with fans at the barricades tonight, and they've got a hotel night.

Now that they're finally free of obligations, doubts are starting to creep into Adam's head. _Mistake, mistake, mistake_ , he thinks, as he opens the door to his room, plus, Kris probably was just fucking with him.

"Got an extra key card, let myself in." Kris's voice echoes weirdly in Adam's room. He sounds nervous.

Holy shit. Adam can't talk; his throat feels all tight. "I don't know--." His voice sounds all high and stupid.

"Yeah." Adam can hear Kris walking over to him in the dark. "I don't want anything to screw it up, being friends. Really important."

Adam breathes out in relief. "Exactly what I was thinking."

"Of course," Kris says, and Adam laughs, because that's their joke, that despite their differences, they pretty much always think the same thing about just about everything.

Adam's relief is changing into something else, something that feels like regret. There's silence for a while, then Kris takes a step closer. Adam swears he can feel the heat radiating off Kris from where he's standing.

"Of course, there's always the chance that--No, forget it."

Adam swallows. "That we'd just be closer?"

"Plus," Kris adds, and his voice is definitely sounding a little rough.

Adam reaches out and touches Kris's forearm with his gloved hand. "It could be really hot," Adam finishes.

"Exactly," Kris sighs, moving all the way into Adam's space.

Adam reaches out and slides his gloved palm up Kris's forearm, over his biceps, up his neck to his cheek.

Adam's eyes have adjusted to almost-dark: there's a faint light coming from the bathroom. He sees Kris close his eyes.

"Your call," Adam whispers. "We won't be able to go back if we do. Drake says yes, unequivocal. Katy really okay?"

Kris opens his eyes. "Talked to her this afternoon," Kris says into the leather of Adam's glove, then mouths his knuckle. "She wants a blow by blow, but yeah."

Adam breathes out hard, feeling the heat of Kris's mouth on his skin. "Fuck."

"Okay then," Kris breathes, then laps at the spaces where Adam's skin pokes out from the leather.

Adam's fascinated, rooted in place. Kris's tongue is precise, warm, wet. Kris darts a glance at Adam over his hand, then slides his tongue up Adam's middle finger, achingly slowly, to the tip. Adam holds his breath. He can't believe it, but Kris opens his mouth, slides it down his finger softly, just a little, lips slightly distended.

"Jesus." Adam's so hard he hurts. He wants Kris's mouth so badly, but doesn't know what he's allowed, doesn't know if he wants to ask and find out where the limits are.

"Adam..." Kris sounds wrecked, and his eyes are huge, pupils dilated. He looks on the edge of panic, though, and Adam realizes he's let Kris do everything so far, be vulnerable, but he hasn't shown anything of his own secrets.

"Kris," Adam says, and he doesn't think anyone could miss how he feels about Kris; he can hear it himself in the way he says his name. He brings his fingers to Kris's mouth, traces a wet line across Kris's lower lip. "Can I? I want to kiss you?"

Kris smiles, at first small, then bigger. "Yeah, that'll work." If he's scared or shy about it, he doesn't let on, but moves a little closer to Adam and looks up at him, trusting and open.

Adam smiles back, and brings his gloved hands to either side of Kris's face. Kris's eyes start to close -- it's like an automatic reaction to the gloves, Adam thinks -- so Adam says, "Open your eyes. Just for now?"

Kris does, but doesn't say anything more, raised up on his toes.

Adam strokes Kris's face, runs his thumbs over Kris's cheeks. Kris keeps his eyes open, though, and Adam distantly wonders what else Kris would do if Adam asked him. His thoughts fall away, though, because he's feeling Kris's breath on his face, then pressing his lips softly to Kris's, gentle.

Kris sighs and opens up so easily, and it all feels so natural, Kris moving closer to him, right up against his body, Kris tentatively pushing a little tongue into Adam's mouth.

The gloves are kind of frustrating, because he can't feel Kris's face with his palms, but he remembers what got them here and moves his hands experimentally on Kris's cheeks, swipes a thumb near their mouths.

Kris's breath hitches. Adam takes one hand off Kris's face, reaches around instinctively for Kris's ass, presses him in hard against him. Kris moans into Adam's mouth and gives him more tongue. Adam brings the heel of his thumb over to Kris's mouth, pulls off for a second. Kris mouths at the glove, panting. Christ. Kris's lips are red, glossy with spit from Adam's mouth. "Holy shit," Adam breaths. "Kris."

"Yeah," Kris pants. "I knew it. I knew if we ever." Kris shakes his head, then licks up Adam's hand, over the lacing and down his fingers, sucks three in before Adam even realizes what's happening.

Adam's knees seriously buckle, and since he's half-supporting Kris as it is, they almost fall. Kris's mouth, around his fingers, Jesus.

"We should--"

"Bed--"

They half-drag each other over to the king sized bed dominating the room, and then they're lying side by side and Kris has Adam's hands at his mouth, licking and sucking his fingers, sometimes three at a time, sometimes one. Adam hasn't come in his pants since he was twenty, but this is getting damned problematic.

"Whoa, whoa, god, I'm going to come if you keep this up," Adam says, and hardly recognizes his voice. "What do you want? I mean, this is going to be your one gay night, right? I'll do anything you want."

"Anything?" Kris asks. "I mean, not that I necessarily, but you--"

Adam laughs. "Are you asking if I bottom, Kristopher? Because of course I do. It's just not my usual. It all depends. Just like with you breeder types."

"Offensive!" Kris teases a little breathlessly, and Adam laughs.

"Offensive assumptions," Adam teases back.

"I don't know." Kris strokes tentatively at Adam's face. "We've got, like, twelve hours 'til bus call. No appearances, interviews. Katy said--." He looks away, then looks back shyly. "She said take all that time, if we want."

Half a day with Kris is more than Adam can think about without wanting to cry or something, so he tries to focus on the feel of Kris's fingers, callused from the guitar, stroking in his hair.

"I mean, I don't know that you would want--"

Adam growls and rolls over on top of Kris, running one gloved hand over his biceps and bringing the other gently over his mouth. Kris's eyes go wide, but his pupils dilate, and Adam can feel him hardening under him. "I want," he says, "everything you'll give me." He rubs his gloved palm softly over Kris's lips and lowers his voice to a whisper. "And to give you everything you'll take."

Kris's eyes are dark, and he groans, licking at the glove.

"And I've been trying to think," Adam adds, working on Kris's belt buckle with his free hand as Kris gropes for Adam's, "of all the things we can do with these gloves in bed, 'cause I'm thinking," he unzips Kris's jeans just as Kris successfully opens Adam's belt, "I'm thinking there's a lot we can use them for."

"Holy shit," Kris pants, flexing up and bracing a leg, then flipping Adam onto his back -- Kris is tiny but really strong, which Adam has to admit he's noticed before tonight; Kris's biceps are _amazing_ , and the lines of muscle in his back--

"Focus," Kris says.

Adam grins up at him and lets it grow predatory. "Oh, I'll be focused."

"I'm not scared," Kris responds, in a perfect imitation of Adam.

"You should be." Adam flips them again, simultaneously yanking Kris's jeans and briefs down and running his gloved hand over Kris's thighs. The leather contrasts beautifully with Kris's skin. Adam's seen Kris naked before, of course, but never fully hard. Kris is beautiful, and if Adam isn't careful, he's going to say something sappy, so instead he just runs a finger over Kris's cock, tauntingly slow. Kris is up on his elbows to watch, and Adam brings his other hand to Kris's mouth. Sure enough, Kris mouths at the leather of the glove, breathing hard.

Adam bends over and licks Kris's cock softly, over and over, up and around, until Kris is panting, "Adam, Adam, come on."

"Look."

Kris does, and Adam fists Kris's cock, making sure Kris can see the glove. He strips his cock once, twice. Kris groans. "No, it'll all be over."

"I think," Adam says, teasing at the head of Kris's cock with his tongue. "That we're both a bit worked up. I think if you come once, then we can relax and I can take my time with you. Get a little creative, maybe."

"Oh, god," Kris says.

"Just feel." Adam ducks his head and takes Kris into his mouth, going down almost all the way. Kris's thighs tense under his hand; this isn't going to take long.

Kris is chanting, "Shit, shit, shit," and Adam can tell he's right on the edge. Just when it counts, he brings his free hand to Kris's face again, runs his palm lightly over Kris's lips, comes off just to say, "You can bite," then takes Kris all the way down again, relishing the way his cock fills him up, leaks salty flavor into the back of his throat. He's always loved sucking cock; he can lose himself in it, and it's amazing feeling Kris come apart under his mouth.

"Oh, god."

Kris does bite, first softly, then harder -- that's going to bruise up but Adam could give a fuck -- and Adam doesn't stop, just keeps sucking and swallowing, relentless around Kris, milking him for everything.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," Kris pants, voice raspy and full, then arches under Adam's hands and comes into his mouth. It's so fucking sexy, the little noises Kris is making, the way his body's shaking. Adam swallows, swallows again, squeezing himself to keep himself from coming; as it is, he's been humping Kris's leg without realizing it. He can't believe this is happening, Kris's hot body underneath him, the taste of Kris in his mouth...

"C'mere, I can't--" Kris's hand reaches for Adam, and Adam crawls up Kris's body. Kris's hair is plastered on his forehead, pupils still blown, lips swollen. He yanks Adam down and kisses him hard for a long time, then flips Adam in one of those stealth moves he's good at. His mouth is everywhere, kissing and sucking a slow but steady path downward, and then Adam suddenly realizes that Kris is licking at him, and remembers--

"Hey, you don't have to--"

"Want to." Kris's eyes sparkle at him. "Full meal deal. Tell me if I bite your dick off or anything."

Adam laughs, but it turns into a moan, because holy god, Kris's lips are around his _cock_ , a little clumsy, and he's only making it partway down, but it still feels like the best thing in the universe. He'd watch, because, well, Kris's _mouth_ , but he doesn't want Kris to feel--

"Here." Kris is grinning at him and hands him two pillows. "If it's a mouth thing, don't you want to see this? I mean, I don't know what I'm doing, but--"

Adam grabs Kris behind the neck and pulls him up for a smoldering kiss. Eventually Kris pulls off and Adam props himself up on the pillows. Kris's mouth is stretched around him, lips red. Adam reaches down, feels his cock through Kris's cheek with his fingers, then rubs the glove against Kris's face. Kris moans and takes him deeper, and Adam's going to come, he's seriously going to come in Kris's--"Kris, no, off, wait--"

"Wha--?" Kris's eyes are wide.

"Not safe. Just--"

Kris narrows his eyes at Adam, but pulls off, brings his hand to Adam's cock, thank _god_ , and strips it pretty damn expertly, just on the edge of too tight. He bends to lick a wicked stripe down the vein in the side, squeezes again, and-- "Oh, _fuck!_." Adam comes, blindingly hard, arching up off the bed and groaning. Kris eases him through it, wrenching another spasm from him when he smooths his hand through Adam's come and slides it down his cock.

Adam melts into the bed, Kris's breath warm on his hip, his hair tickling his leg. Kris crawls back up and kisses Adam, softly this time, gentle presses of his lips. Adam feels boneless, like his body is pushing him into the mattress. Kris collapses on top of him, Adam's arms go automatically around him, they both sigh, and then there's silence.

After a while, Kris murmurs, "I wanted to feel it, you know, in my mouth. What was up with that? I'm not doing this so you can treat me like some, I don't know, virginal--"

Adam squeezes him and for some reason his eyes sting. "Not that. Just, Drake and I haven't been exclusive long enough. I'm not going to risk--"

"That should be my choice." Kris's hands are in Adam's hair, fingers gently carding.

"You're pretty opinionated for someone who hasn't done this before."

"Mmmhmm. I have another opinion, wanna hear it?"

"Always." Adam lets his hands smooth over the planes of Kris's back, his perfect skin, down over the bend where back meets ass, then, daring, over Kris's butt.

Kris sighs and wiggles a little. "Mmmm."

"Yeah?" This feels more intimate, this gentle touching, than what they've already done.

"It's not really a secret. I've said it a lot on t.v. and in interviews and stuff, but--"

Adam's throat feels tight and his hands still.

"I love you," Kris says into Adam's shoulder, then lifts up on his elbows and strokes Adam's hair off his face. "I mean, you know that, but I wanted to say it. I mean the real you, you know? I think you need--" Kris cuts himself off, like he's used up his quotient of words or something.

"It's okay, you can say," Adam says softly, voice choked, because, wow, how did he deserve this friend?

"You're going to need people in your life who love the real you. You have some others, but, you're going to need that, to balance against where you're going." Kris lowers himself back down, snuggles in against Adam's chest.

"Where I'm going?"

"Superstar. No doubt." The easy confidence makes Adam smile. He's really kind of thinking that's going to happen, too, but he's not counting on it. He closes his eyes and presses Kris tighter to him. "If that happens, and I'm leaving that to the Universe, I'm going to need someone who'll always be straight with me. Even my family, they don't completely get it. And Drake's too nice."

"Yeah. I will come and personally fuck you up if you turn into an asshole. Or if you create a ranch with a zoo in it."

"Ooooh, Kristopher getting all down and dirty with the language!"

Kris squirms on top of Adam. "Considering the circumstances, I don't think it's the words I say that are making me down and dirty."

Adam laughs out loud. "True that." He takes a breath, lets it out. It's really quiet. He finds Kris's ear with his mouth and whispers his truth. "I love you, too, Kristopher Allen."

"Yeah." Kris's voice is gentle.

They just lie there for a while. This really should all be so weird, but somehow, it isn't. Adam thought he'd experienced most everything you could, living pretty intensely ever since he got his gay shit together, but he'd been wrong; he couldn't even have imagined something like this, loving two guys in such similar but different ways. It was just like, love wasn't a zero sum game. He's believed that for a long time, but he hadn't really experienced it.

He squeezes Kris tighter and kisses his hair.

After a while Kris gets up and comes back with a washcloth and sponges Adam off. He bites his lip, concentrating, seemingly fascinated with the springy red hairs littering Adam's thighs and belly. Adam can't help but react, and suddenly he wants to see Kris like he was again; passionate, wrecked.

He drags Kris up to his mouth and they kiss for endless minutes, Kris growing hard against his side. Adam remembers the glove thing and pulls one off, pushes Kris down on the bed and trails the glove over his legs, shin to thigh, over and over, until Kris is panting, rock-hard. "Please," he finally says. "Please. Adam."

"What do you want?" Adam trails the glove softly over Kris's cock, drawing a gasp, then brings it down around his balls, wraps them in it lightly. Kris looks amazing; hard red cock, balls encased in leather. Daring, Adam licks at the inner edge of Kris's thighs, and Kris spreads them wider, legs opening like it comes naturally. Fuck. Adam keeps licking, tasting fresh soap all the way down behind Kris's balls, and he wonders what would happen if he licks right behind them, right where--

"Uhhhh..." Kris's groan is gutteral, harsh, a sound Adam hasn't heard from him yet. Acting on instinct, Adam tightens the glove around Kris's balls a little. Another groan, and Kris's legs spread further apart.

"Fuck," Adam whispers into the soap-scented skin of Kris's ass, licking once experimentally to see--

"Ohhh."

Well, that's pretty far from a no, so Adam licks again, gentle swipes, then presses harder. When he remembers, he tightens and then loosens the glove around Kris's balls, drawing a groan every time. Kris's own musk is starting to come through, and Adam loves this, feels like he could do this all day, though his cock is literally hurting he's so hard.

Kris is saying something, has been for a while, Adam guesses, by the desperation in his voice. He focuses to hear it: "Adam, come on, come on." Kris's voice is somehow hoarse and whiny at the same time, and something sharp twists in Adam's belly. Yeah, he wants it. He's wanted it for a very long time.

He slithers up Kris, dragging the glove up Kris's body. When he gets to Kris's nipples, he licks, then slides the glove experimentally over Kris's skin. Another groan, so Adam tries it again, this time letting the leather catch and pull. Kris writhes. "God, god, holy--". Adam's going to have fantasy material for years from this, because if Kris is this sensitive, the things he could do to him, Jesus.

"Asshole." Kris's impressive arm muscles flex as he drags Adam bodily up. Adam turns his face away, because he isn't sure Kris is ready for where Adam's mouth has been, but Kris forces his head down into a bruising kiss. "Would you fuck me now," he pants, "asshole."

"Since you ask so nicely," Adam smirks, but his hands tremble as he reaches for lube, a condom. He reaches to prep Kris, then pauses. "I think I'm forgetting something," he says airily, and showily pulls the glove back on his hand. He dribbles lube on his fingers -- it's going to ruin the leather, but that's not something he's worrying about, needless to say -- just to see Kris's pupils dilate, then says, "Watch." He makes sure Kris can see his gloved hand, working him open, slowly and carefully.

The flush moves from Kris's cheeks to his neck and chest, and Adam doesn't know if he can stand it any longer. "Can I do three?" he finally asks, voice breathy.

Kris nods frantically. Adam grabs Kris's hand, squeezes, and Kris squeezes back. _Still here. Still okay._ Three fingers are hard, and then suddenly not; Kris opens up beautifully around them.

Adam's suddenly frantic, desperate. He smooths the condom on with shaking hands, Kris's eyes riveted on his gloves. He's almost starting to feel like the gloves are more important than--

"Adam." Kris reaches for Adam's face, strokes his cheek a little.

Adam clears his throat. "You sure? I mean, it's kind of a big deal?"

Kris grinds up against him, unmistakable.

"It'll be easier on your stomach. Or your side, even better."

Kris shakes his head. "Like this."

Adam thinks about insisting, but Kris has that stubborn look in his eyes that he sometimes gets. "Tell me if it hurts." Adam makes sure his voice conveys how seriously he means that.

Kris nods, bites his lip and Adam slips in, pushes a little.

Kris gasps, throwing his head back; the veins on his neck are so hot, Adam wants to lick them forever. "Okay," Kris says after a while, and Adam pushes again, deeper, stays there until Kris signals him to move by canting his hips a little more. Adam pulls out slowly, pushes in, then does it again. Kris pants, then growls, "More."

It's the familiar tight-hot-slide, and Kris is getting into it, hips lifting into Adam. Adam shifts a little and, bingo, Kris moans. "Holy. That must be--"

"Prostate. God's gift to many men." Adam gasps, because Kris is getting positively greedy now, rocking up into him, hands on Adam's hips pulling him into him harder; he's going to have bruises tomorrow.

Kris is biting his lip, and as beautiful as that look is on him, Adam wonders... "Here." Adam slips the glove off that isn't covered with lube, rubs it over Kris's face, bends down and kisses him softly before running it over his lips. "You want to bite on it?"

Kris's eyes look frantic, but he opens his mouth, breathing hard.

It's all too much, too hot, so Adam accelerates the pace, getting Kris right to the edge, then reaches with his one gloved hand to stroke him in time with his thrusts, waiting, waiting...

Kris goes rigid, all the muscles of his thighs and stomach tensing, throws his head back and comes, biting hard on the glove in his mouth, sounds escaping around the leather, guttural and harsh. He pulls Kris's legs up a little higher and pumps frantically, once, twice, and then everything blanks out for a while on a thrilling wave of pleasure. He collapses on top of Kris, then forces himself to pull out gently, roll off and strip off the condom, throw it into the trash can at the side of the bed. He collapses on his side, curled around Kris. He has just enough awareness to feel Kris's hands, stroking gently in his hair, before sleep pulls him down hard.

He wakes hours later, ravenous. There's a faint light coming from the curtained windows. Kris is carrying a tray to the bed; it's loaded with breakfast. "What--?"

"Ordered room service. Figured we needed it."

"Oh." Adam feels weirdly shy, or something close to it, and the way Kris isn't meeting his eyes makes him think Kris is feeling the same thing. "What do we have?"

"We have," Kris brings the tray to the bed, still not looking at Adam, sits and puts the tray between them. He's wearing a t-shirt and boxers, but Adam's naked under the sheet. "Eggs, bacon, tofu scramble for the woo-woo Californian, something called 'various pastries,' and a ton of coffee and juice."

"What time is it? Do I want to know?" Adam pulls the sheet up a little so it's around his waist.

"Ten." Kris darts a glance under his lashes at Adam. "Bus call at one."

Adam sips greedily at the coffee. "Okay."

There's silence for a while. Kris butters some toast and Adam pushes the tofu around on his plate.

"Adam..."

Adam looks up at Kris, who's pressing his lips together. "I think." Kris picks up the tray and sets it on the bedside table. "I think we started off this morning wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Come here." Kris tugs on Adam's hand, no longer gloved -- he'd taken it off last night right as he fell asleep.

Adam sputters and manages to set his coffee down as Kris pulls him towards his side of the bed. Adam lies there stiffly. The enormity of what they've done, what _he's_ done, is crashing in on him. He can feel himself shaking a little, embarrassingly; he's the one who should be together about this.

"Adam," Kris says. "Adam." He wraps his arms and legs around Adam and holds on. "Come on. It's okay. Everyone was cool with this. We're both going to be cool with this. We're not gonna let it be any other way."

"Did I hurt you?" Adam asks into Kris's shoulder.

"No. Are you kidding? I'm not going to be sitting more than I have to today, but I'm fine. You, though. Let me see that." Kris pulls Adam's hand to him. There's a bruise blackening the heel of Adam's hand. "That looks nasty."

Adam shakes his head. "A little ache, maybe, that's all."

"Still." Kris looks shy again, but he pulls Adam's hand to his lips and kisses the bruise softly. His cheeks are pink.

"Kris," Adam says, heart full. "Kris." Then they're kissing, soft and sweet, hands curling around each other's ears.

They pull back, and Adam feels okay for the first time since he woke up. He's been meaning to ask something, though. He reaches out and touches the small cross Kris wears around his neck. "Are you--I mean, I want you to be okay, to not--"

Kris covers Adam's hand with his, presses a little. "At peace with it. Mainly." Kris smiles at him. "I don't understand everything, but I just--I don't know how to explain it, but it feels right, you know?"

Adam knows. He smiles.

Kris smiles back. "Dude, let's eat."

"Smashing idea."

They eat and eat, devouring everything on the tray. Adam has six cups of coffee and Kris has four. There's jam everywhere, and eggs, and sugar, but they just laugh.

"I'm disgusting." Adam sits up. "The shower is calling my name."

"Me, too." Kris smiles at him. "You called it first. Go ahead."

Adam smirks at Kris. "Don't you do double showers in Conway?"

"Hicksville. Never heard of that." Kris stands up and runs toward the bathroom. "I call the controls."

"You can't call the controls. What does that even mean?" Adam laughs, racing after him.

The shower's huge, hot and steamy. Adam grabs the soap and lathers Kris up, chest first, then turns him and does his back. His hands slow when he soaps Kris's ass, sliding softly over slick skin; he leans forward to pepper kisses on Kris's neck. Kris grabs the soap from him and does Adam, and it feels so good Adam's practically purring, Kris's strong hands smoothing over the planes of his back, then down his spine. When Kris starts washing his butt, Adam sighs. Kris makes a little inquisitive sound and Adam leans forward on his elbows on the wall of the shower.

"Hot," Kris murmurs into his ear, fingers sliding down Adam's crack to circle behind his balls, then back. Adam arches into it, silently giving permission. Kris crowds up behind him, but his fingers are gentle, exploring.

"Mmmhmm." Adam reaches a hand for his half-hard cock, but Kris slaps it away. "Kris! I thought you were the nice one."

Kris laughs, then licks Adam's ear as he slides two thick fingers into him. "Depends on your definition of nice."

"God." Adam doesn't talk for a while, silently directing Kris in what he's doing, until Kris doesn't need directing any more, and Adam's writhing, desperate for friction on his cock. "Kris, come on."

"Okay, okay, come here, this isn't gonna work right here." Kris puts an arm around Adam and pulls him toward the bed. It's totally a mess but Adam's not caring about anything right now except Kris's hands, firm on his body, pressing him down into the sheets, then pushing into him with lubed fingers.

"Don't need all that. Just fuck me."

Kris gasps, maybe desperate himself. There's the rip of the wrapper, some motion, and Adam just breathes into the pillow. Kris pushes Adam on his side and lies behind him, damp and warm. He shoves one of Adam's legs up. "Sure?"

"Ha!"

Kris snorts and grabs Adam's hips, breaches him. It's been a while since Adam's been on this end of it, so there's the relative novelty, on top of the fact that it's _Kris_. "God." Adam feels the surge of emotion he always gets in this position; different from the sense of protectiveness and care and control when he tops, this is more like...more like.... He doesn't know what it's like, but he fumbles for Kris's hand behind him. Kris grabs it right away and squeezes, and Adam feels the connection, same as always.

"Adam," Kris says, voice thick, and kisses Adam's shoulder blades.

Adam suddenly sees his gloves, discarded last night, in a little pile on the nightstand. "Oh. The gloves. You want--"

"It's not about any damn gloves." Kris cuts him off, hands digging tighter into Adam's hips.

Suddenly Adam doesn't want tender; he wants this to burn into his bones so he can carry it around with him. He rolls onto his stomach, then pushes up slowly partway to his knees, Kris staying with him the whole time. "Do me," he says. "Do it hard. I want you to."

Kris gasps out a harsh breath, but maybe understands what Adam means, because he doesn't protest, just squeezes Adam's hand harder, then turns it over and presses it into the sheets, shoves hard into Adam, over and over, just what Adam wants. Adam's desperate for pressure on his aching cock, puts his weight on one hand to reach for it with the other, but Kris stops him _again_. "No. I wanna."

"Then hurry the fuck up, honey, because I'm dying here."

Kris snorts and shifts Adam's hips, fucking into him almost viciously. Adam moans and keeps on moaning, because Kris's really got the hang of this now, setting a smooth rhythm, ending each stroke with a little twist. There's sweat dripping into Adam's eyes, and points of ache where Kris's hands are gripping him; another set of bruises, he reflects vaguely.

" _Now_ I'm gonna touch you," Kris practically growls, reaching around and fisting him loosely.

Adam groans, almost collapsing; Kris's hand is not quite tight enough, not quite. "Kris, come on."

Kris laughs breathlessly behind him. "Kind of like seeing you like this."

"Jesus," Adam hisses. "Who knew. Sadist."

"Mmm. You look so..." Kris tightens his hand a little and Adam groans. "And you sound so... _god_ ," Kris voice breaks a little.

Adam closes his eyes, gives into it, just _feels_ Kris everywhere, in him and behind him and around him, filling him up and surrounding him. He doesn't usually like to give up so much control, but with Kris, somehow this works, and it's beyond hot; their bodies are moving in perfect sync. Kris hits a particularly great spot and Adam has to press his forehead down into the bed. The new angle spikes a hot twist of fire up his spine, and he barely recognizes the sounds coming out of his mouth. Kris groans and fucks into him even harder. "Adam, fuck, oh my god."

Adam feels it start in his toes and his back, curling him up from the inside. He doesn't want it to be over, and he hovers on the edge, on the edge...

"For me," Kris whispers, hoarse and choked, and Adam comes, blindingly hard. It rocks him so intensely his hips start to collapse onto the bed, but strong hands haul him back up. Kris rocks into him again, and again, and then he's biting Adam's back, moaning. Adam feels the surge even through the condom, and then he collapses, Kris on top of him.

They lie there, just panting, for a long time.

"Wow." Kris breathes into the skin of Adam's neck.

"Yeah, wow." Adam feels like he'll never move again. And actually, he'd really rather not; he'd like to stay here pretty much forever.

Kris slips out and pads to the bathroom, comes back after a while with a cloth and sponges Adam off.

"Mmmm. We can sleep all day now, right?" Adam murmurs, trying to ignore the way his chest feels tight.

"Yeah right. Just tell 19 to piss off, sounds about right."

"How much time?"

Kris sighs. "Half an hour. We've gotta go."

"Yeah." Adam rolls over, looks at Kris. Kris looks... like himself, actually. He's definitely glowing a little, but his eyes look at little sad.

Adam blows out a puff of air. "Now for the hard part, I guess."

"Yeah because that was all so easy," Kris deadpans, mouth curling up a little.

"I'm thinking maybe we both need showers again."

"That is a good thought, my friend." Kris looks away. "Listen, Adam, there's something else. I don't know, I mean, it probably doesn't even--"

Adam pokes Kris in the stomach. "I had my tongue in impossible places on your body. I think you can tell me, whatever it is."

Kris rolls his eyes. "It's just. Katy actually said, well, once a year. She said, once a year, for a night." Kris raises his eyes to Adam's. "You know, if we wanted. So long as we don't get hurt. Either of us."

Adam sees the question in Kris's eyes and shakes his head. "You have to ask, whether I want that?"

"Well, I--," Kris looks away, then meets Adam's eyes and smiles, "No, actually, no. You?"

Adam reaches for Kris's hand, pulls it to his mouth and kisses it. "No." He searches Kris's face, sees his answer. "No." Kris strokes Adam's face and Adam leans into it. "Your wife is amazing," Adam manages to say against the sudden tightness in his throat.

"Tell me about it. Drake, too. He's a sweetheart. He's good for you, I think?"

"Yeah. Keeps me grounded, but knows how to have fun."

"Yep."

They shower separately for strategic reasons. Adam goes first, of course, so he has time for makeup, and they both throw their stuff into suitcases and then it's time. They stand at the door and survey the room together. The bed's a wreck, smeared with lube and come and littered with crumbs. "Uh," Kris says.

"Oh well. They already call me a diva, anyway," Adam mock-sighs. "It'll just add to my rock star persona."

Kris laughs. "Oh, man. I can just imagine the stories that could come out of this. Hopefully the maids have better things to do than talk to TMZ."

"Oops! Almost forgot these," Adam says with a grin, swooping up the gloves, now decidedly worse for wear.

"Disgusting. What are you going to do with them?"

"Souvenir, maybe?" Adam winks at Kris and Kris blushes, then rolls his eyes and takes the one that's least gross. "Just add it to your Idol Champion Conquests Scrapbook," Adam deadpans.

Kris hits him, glances at his watch and takes a deep breath. "Well."

"Yeah. Well."

Adam smiles at Kris, and Kris smiles back. They keep smiling at each other for a long time, and if anyone's eyes are a little damp, neither of them say anything.

Their hug right before they leave is almost exactly like their hugs have always been, warm and tight and full of love. There is something extra there; Adam can feel it, their hearts weaving together, warm and strong. Though maybe, Adam reflects, whatever it is isn't so new after all. Maybe, it's been there all along.

When they walk out, they do it together.

~ ~ ~

Adam braces for things to get weird, but they never do. The rest of the tour is awesome, and he and Kris goof around exactly as much as they would have if nothing had happened. They're as comfortable inside each other's personal space as always, and they hug freely. Adam has to breathe a little deeply before he sees Katy for the first time, but she acts totally normal, and if anything, more affectionate with him than ever.

The ache in his heart is exactly the same as it would have been, saying goodbye to Kris at the end of the tour. The sense of something missing is just like it would have been; pretty damn bad. (Of course it's ridiculous, because they're going to see each in LA all the time, and they text and call every day, but.)

It takes him a while to talk about it with Drake, but when he does, he thinks he pretty much manages to say just enough, but not too much.

"So, she said we could do it once a year..." Adam hears his voice trail off. Drake's pretty quiet. "But I mean, I don't know whether--"

Drake presses a sweet kiss on his lips until he's quiet. "Of course you will. I just want champagne and caviar every other night of the year to make up for it."

Adam laughs; the In & Out Burger wrappers are still littering the coffee table. Drake loves junk food. "You're high maintenance, but you're the best, baby."

"I don't know about that." Drake reaches for his laptop. "Look what the Allens just sent us. I think Katy might take the prize." He flips the screen so Adam can see.

"Holy shit," Adam says. It's a photo of Katy and Kris. The caption reads, _Hi! Thought you might appreciate my outfit. More seriously, I love you, Adam. I mean it. You too, D. Katy._ Kris looks a little shell shocked, smiling tentatively into the camera, cheeks pink, arm around Katy. Katy's wearing awesome black boots and a mini and a tight fitting top, but what draws Adam's eyes immediately are what are on her hands: kick-ass fingerless black leather gloves.

"You don't think they'd ever, you know. Together, with us? I mean, I know you'd want your alone time with him and all that, but I mean, on top of that?"

Adam laughs. "Seriously! That lady might be the death of us all, though." He leans back, looks at the photo some more. "Well, until last week, I would have said no chance, but now... I suppose never say never."

"Mmmhmm. Pretty sure I'm not Kris's type, though." Drake's eyes sparkle at Adam.

"True." Adam grins. "But I'm pretty sure you're Katy's."

Later that night, Adam gets a single text from Kris: _and in the end, the love you take..._

Adam's eyes mist and it's a while before he can send one back. He types and erases a bunch of things, because he figures he's got one shot, at least for now; he doesn't think they'll be talking about it again for about a year. He finally thinks he has it, and presses send, smiling in the dark.

 _Yeah. Not a zero sum game. Equal to the love you make. And a little leather never hurts, either. <333 _

  
**The End**


End file.
